


My Wife, My Son, My Life

by mmmuse



Series: Moments from Poldark [14]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 17:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse/pseuds/mmmuse
Summary: Ross returns from Roscoe to rediscover those he left behind. A missing moment from Poldark, episode 3.03. Unbetaed.





	My Wife, My Son, My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Story originally posted on Tumblr at the request of [@poldarked-fangirl](https://tmblr.co/m7uEMsuB0-BHK8pS8Cf37Hg). Many, many thanks to those of you who liked and reblogged all four parts on Tumblr.

"Demelza?" Ross stalked up the stairs, his temper bubbling near the breaking point. He'd been home for less than six hours and found the contentment he'd felt upon his arrival chipping away with each step.

Sam Carne had come to Nampara a few moments after Demelza had taken Jeremy upstairs. The young man brought two rabbits he'd snared near the old storage shed. A feeling of disquiet had come over him at the prospect of navigating a conversation with his wife's zealous, Methody brother without her wise counsel. But their son had been wildly excitable with Ross's return and was in desperate need of a bath and his bed.

"What's this, Samuel?" Ross asked. Both of Demelza's brothers had asked him to call them brother, a habit of which he'd not adopted during his time away from home. "A gift of rabbits in the hopes of wheedling an invitation to supper the next day or two?"

Sam blushed. "No, sir, Cap'n Poldark," he confirmed, handing the game to Prudie. "‘Tis just my way of thanking you and Sister for the use of the storage shed for our meetings." Ross stiffened as he filled his pipe, but resumed his task without missing a beat. "Ever since Mr George Warleggan kicked us out of the church and then the old meeting house near Grambler, we hadn't the chance to find another spot. That's when Sister offered us the storage shed."

"She did, did she?" Ross asked, hoping the twitch he'd developed under his eye was not too visible.

"Aye, sir," Sam stated, beaming with pride. "We're forever in your debt."

Ross drew in on his pipe, counting to ten before he spoke. "Well, I hope the building will suit your needs, Samuel. Now, it's been a very long day, and months since I've been in my bed, so if you'll excuse me?"

"O'course, Cap'n Poldark," the young man said, touching his forelock. "Please give Sister my love, sir?"

"I will, thank you, Samuel. 'Tis almost dusk so be safe on your way." Ross shut the door, cutting his eyes towards Prudie, who'd attempted to sneak out the side door. "Meeting house, eh?"

"Aye, Cap'n Ross, sir," she babbled. "They be doin' a good job of cleanin' up all of that old debris that's been in there since yer father died. Made it respectable, like."

"How long have the Methodists been meeting there?"

"Nigh on a month now, sir," Prudie said. "'Twas a decent thing for the mistress to do, sir."

Ross reached the master's chamber, his hand pausing on the latch. He opened the door to find Demelza, sitting at her vanity as she readied for slumber. It was the same one he'd made for her several years ago.

God, he'd missed her more than he'd ever missed anyone in his life. The kiss they'd shared in the courtyard had filled him with enough joy and gratitude to buoy his spirits for hours. As they embraced, the warm softness of her body so intoxicating after so many months, he realised he'd missed all of the little things that life with her brought. How he'd longed to see the expression on her face when she was with their son, the warmth of her smile when he complimented her meal, the scent of her hair when she'd wrapped him in another embrace near the library. Most importantly, he'd missed seeing her swell with their child, the radiance of her loveliness as their baby had grown within her.

This was not how he'd pictured his first night home from France proceeding after such a lengthy absence, but the conversation he had to have with his wife wouldn't wait until morning. He swallowed his nerves and closed the door.

"Who was that coming to call so late, Ross?" Demelza asked, running a brush through her bright hair, idly humming a tune in the new mirror which had replaced the one they'd been forced to sell.

"Your brother Samuel," he answered.

Several beats of silence had passed before she spoke. "Oh? What did he want?"

"He brought us a couple of rabbits he'd snared," he said.

"That's good of him," she murmured. "I think I'll use them for a nice stew for Wednesday, and invite them over."

"Snared by the storage shed." He let that sentence ring in the silence that bubbled up in the room. "Which is now a Methody meeting house?" He hadn't intended his voice to rise with each word, but it had and could not be taken aback.

She sighed. "Yes, Ross. We have a Methodist meeting house on Nampara land."

He stripped off his coat, tossing it on the chest at the foot of their bed. "By whose permission?" he barked.

"By mine, Ross." She glanced at him in the mirror, her brush moving through one of her long curls. "Who else would say so?"

The matter-of-fact tone in her response set his back teeth on edge. He nodded, ruefully shaking his head in frustration. "And you would take such a decision without consulting me?"

Demelza turned, placing the brush onto the vanity. "You seriously ask me that?" she stated incredulously

"I seriously ask it, yes," he said, his hands on his hips.

She stood. "Who am I, Ross?"

He blinked. "My wife," he stated baldly.

"And when you're away, who do I defer to?" she asked, slowly walking until she stood no more than a few inches from him. He'd seen the flecks of green that shimmered in her eyes, sparking with fire in times of passion and fury. "Do I wait for you to return and fill the void you've left behind, or do I step into it? Live my life as if you'd be not in it." He could not deny he hadn't given her any other choice but to do so. "I have a child to support, another on the way, a farm to run, and a mine beside." Trickles of guilt seeped into his bones, and he did his best to ignore them. She met his eyes with steely blue directness. He shifted his gaze, noticing her steady, capable hand resting on the swell of their child. "Other women may bow and scrape, and ask permission, as I once did. But, no longer. For all I knew you were never coming back, and I'd be head of the family."

"But I have come back." Demelza sighed, disappointment evident on her face. The rightness of what she said chipped away at the false pride with which he'd shielded himself the moment he walked into their room. He nodded slowly. "You're right." He eased down to sit on the edge of the chest. "I have no business questioning what you did in my absence. You're my wife, not my chattel." He stared at his hands. "France is a desperate place," he said, voicing some of the fears that had hovered, like a vulture, over him every moment he was away. "And there were times where I doubted whether I'd come back alive." He raised his eyes, hoped she would see the truth in his gaze, and reached for her hands, drawing her close. "But now that I have, I'm not about to quibble about the conditions of my return."

"Well…" Her lovely eyes, the thing he loved most about her, softened with acceptance. She released his hands to finger the green neckcloth around his neck. "Perhaps if you behave well, they may be warmer than you deserve."

He couldn't take his eyes from hers as her fingers slipped the fabric free from his collar. A frisson of desire shimmered through his veins and across his skin as her lips parted, drawing his full attention. The touch of her hands on his face, her fingers in his hair, feathered his lashes against his cheeks as she kissed him. He would never get enough of the soft, nibbling caresses she lavished upon his lips. The third kiss drew him to his feet, his arms snaking around her waist, the heels of his hands rubbing circles on her lower back. He smiled as she moaned against his mouth. "I see I can be of some use here," he murmured against her arched throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to do this for you, my love."

She drew back, pressing her forehead against his. "I was so worried and frightened, Ross," she admitted, her fingers playing with the hair at his nape.  
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her as he'd been dying to since he came home, full, lush, drinking in taste, her scent, her touch. She made a soft, needy sound at the back of her throat that sent a jolt of need along his bones. "Demelza," he whispered against her cheek, his hand tracing the curve of her shoulder, her breast until it rested on her belly. "Has our friend been restless?"

"Restless enough." She covered his hand with both hers. "Help me undress and see for yourself."

~*~*~*~*

He reached for the laces of her bodice, sliding the ribbons free, reminding him of the first dress he ever helped her out of, so many years ago. He grinned, which earned him a gentle poke in his side. "What are you thinking of, Ross?"

"Oh, I imagine you can guess," he chuckled, drawing the ribbons free and spreading her jacket open, revealing the lovely brocade stomacher beneath. He was happy she'd still found one of the purchases they'd made at Mistress Trelask's before he'd left for France useful. "I believe, once the child has come and you're ready for another jaunt into town, I should like to find some blue-green silk for a new party gown for you." His grin broadened as her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. He slipped the pins on the stomacher free, running the tip of his index finger along the edge of her neckline, the skin of her breasts erupting in gooseflesh. He nuzzled his nose against hers. "I've a need to see you in that colour once again."

She nipped his bottom lip when he drew back from the urgent kiss she'd pressed upon him. "Twill be several months before then–" He kissed her, sharp and quick, before levelling her a glance. "I would be most pleased to do so, my lover."

Ross reached for the open lapels of her jacket when a sound from down the hall brought him short. "Our Jeremy?" he asked.

"Yes, Ross." Her eyes softened, taking a little of the sting away from her disappointed sigh. Tonight is the first night he'll be in his room for the last few weeks, so I thought we might have some troubles."

Ross covered her hands as she drew the fabric closed. "You've had him here with you whilst I've been away?" he asked softly.

She nodded, her eyes dark and warm. "Jeremy looks just like you when you are asleep." He was inexplicably moved by this and gently kissed her. "I should go to him, just to settle him down." 

"Let me, Demelza," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "As much as I should enjoy helping you from your garments, I dare say I might have a chance to finish the task when I return?"

"Oh yes," she sighed, kissing his jaw, the tip of her tongue running against the stubble before her teeth gave him a nip. "I'll be waiting," she whispered against his skin.

Ross couldn't restrain a groan from leaving his lips. "Siren." She laughed throatily, nudging him towards the door with a gentle shove.

He adjusted his breeches as he moved down the hall towards Jeremy's room, shifting his focus towards his son. It had been Prudie's voice that had separated Ross and Demelza from their embrace in the yard, his annoyance turning to joy when he saw the lad peering around the maid's skirts. Jeremy had grown during his absence, or was that just his imagination? It had been hard to tell, since the boy had been shy around his father at supper, peeking around his mother to watch him. His son's wariness had eased when they'd all relaxed by the fire, their bellies full and the day's excitement mellowed into contentment. Ross had been telling Demelza of his escape from the French when he'd caught Jeremy's dark eyes observing him with a trembling curiosity it made Ross bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Eventually, the boy had made his way from Demelza's side to Ross's, his little body leaning against his father's as they sat on the settle until he'd nodded off, his head in Ross's lap. Now, as Ross opened the door, he hoped the lad would not object to his father being the one to tend to him.

Ross locked onto Jeremy's eyes the instant he entered the room, the light from the eight-hour candle Demelza had used reflected in his tears. "Son?" Ross asked, striding across the room to sit on the edge of the cot. Jeremy scrambled into his father's lap, his arms clamped around his neck. "What's this?" Ross said, stroking his hand down the boy's back.

"I miss Mama," he sobbed.

"I know, ‘tis a big thing to ask you, to be in here all by your lonesome," Ross murmured, breathing in the boy's scent, his throat catching by how much he'd missed this. "What if I were to let Garrick stay with you tonight?" He smiled at the jolt of pleasure that raced through him, brought about merely by his son's gasp of delight.

"Oh, yes, Papa!" Jeremy sat back, wiping his cheeks with the backs of his hands. "Please, can he?"

"Alright, then." Ross pressed a kiss on his son's temple. "Just this once." He shifted Jeremy back under his blankets and went to fetch the dog. Ross had long since lost the battle to keep the dog outside, but he had been able to insist the beast remain downstairs in the kitchen. True to form, when Ross reached the room, the scent of yeast from tomorrow's bread spreading its sweet, homey tang through the air, he found Garrick, sitting at attention amidst his blankets. "I require your services, mongrel," he said, hands on his hips, humour removing the edge from his phrasing. "Care to accompany me to Master Jeremy's room?" The dog gave a quiet 'woof' and padded his way to Ross's side.

Moments later, Ross pushed open the door to his son's room, his heart warmed by the delight that spread its way across Jeremy's face as Garrick bounded across the room and into his cot. "Now, I've your promise that you will not stay up all night at play, son?" Ross asked.

"Yes, Papa, I promise," the boy giggled, closing his eyes as the dog did his best to lick Jeremy's face clean. "Thank you, Papa." He held Garrick at bay and offered his lips for a kiss.

His heart too full to speak, Ross leant down to press his own against them. "Goodnight, lad."

~*~*~*~*~

Demelza slipped from her petticoat and shift, marvelling at the unfamiliar gift of personal time she'd received through her husband's assistance, seductive and welcomed after so many months of never having time enough for everything. She glanced at the closed chamber door over her shoulder. Ross had been gone, checking on Jeremy, for quite a while. She hoped all was well but worried just the same. His relationship with his son had been troubled from the start, the loss of their daughter Julia having struck him harder than she'd realised, and harder than he'd revealed. A thread of the bitterness that had plagued them while they awaited Jeremy's arrival threatened to encroach on her happiness. Ross was home, warm, attentive and more open than she'd ever seen him before, and she'd not allow the sorrow from that time to sully their reunion.

She hadn't missed the way his eyes had followed her as she'd moved about the parlour preparing the table for supper, warm and intense when they'd met hers, soft and filled with regret when they'd rested upon her belly. He'd caught her when she'd finished with the glasses, his arm slipping around her waist to pull her close, resting his head against the swell of their child.

"How has our friend been treating you, my love?" he'd murmured, his eyes searching hers. Demelza had been struck by the sorrow that shone from his whiskey-brown gaze. He'd snuck a glance towards their son, who played with his tin soldiers near the hearth before pressing his lips against her belly. His hand had cupped her, low near her groyne. She'd barely had time to stifle the involuntary moan that had rushed to her lips behind the back of her hand before tilting his chin up for a kiss, one filled with love and desire, a squealing embrace from their son bringing the moment to a close.  
More glances and half-smiles had come her way as the evening had worn on, as he'd shared some of his adventures with them, despite their son's squeals of laughter over some of his father's tales of daring do, most of which she'd prayed were exaggerations not based on reality. Her hopes had been dashed after they'd squared off over the meeting house when he'd told her that he'd wondered if he would make it home alive. The fierce independence she'd had to assume during his absence had faltered, and the fear she'd carried with her from the moment he'd left threatened to reveal itself. She'd managed to cover it with teasing playfulness, but the uncharacteristic openness he'd showed had been profoundly moving. It made her hope he would live up to his promise to find his contentment in his home and family, and leave the days of reckless adventuring behind.

 _Can he?_ a faint voice in the back of her head warned. She shushed it with a frown, exchanging her shift for her night rail and blowing out the candle. She slipped under the bedclothes just as the door opened. His eyes had lingered on her face before he pressed the sturdy oak closed, the click of the latch loud in the quiet room. "How is Jeremy, Ross?" she asked.

The corner of Ross's mouth quirked up. "Oh, I suspect he and Garrick are doing what I told him not to do: staying up and playing."

Her eyes widened. "You let Garrick stay with him?" The only other time Ross had allowed the dog up onto the second floor was when he'd charged the mongrel to mind Julia when he'd gone off to check on Jim Carter.

"Just this once, as I told the lad," Ross said. His fingers fussed at the buttons at his wrists before he sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots.

She slid closer, enjoying the play of the muscles along his back and shoulder as he pulled off his boots, running one finger along his spine. She delighted at the shiver that brought his movements to a halt. "Ross?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Hurry."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The second boot slid from his hands, hitting the floor with a thud. He sensed the urgency in Demelza's voice, the silken touch of her finger that raised the hair at his nape and down his arms. The arousal that had retreated surged back with an intensity bordering upon pain. He turned, licking his lips in response to the heat blazing in her eyes. He leant close, taking her mouth with his, hungrily, roughly. The button on his left cuff pinged its way across the floor as he broke free from her for an instant, whipping his shirt overhead. Her nails scored his chest, threading through the swirling hair to find his nipples. "Judas," his breath hissed from between his lips at her light pinch. "Need you so."

"As I do you." She kissed him again, her teeth nipping his bottom lip. Ross's fingers scrabbled for the buttons of his breeches, shoving them down his legs as he stood, twisting to burrow under the bedclothes. Her hand closed over his cock, making him groan aloud. "Ross," she breathed, her lips finding his nipple while she stroked him.

"Can't, love, please," he moaned, his hands reaching for her night rail. "Let me see you." She released him, nodding apprehensively he knew for she could never understand why he found her so desirable when she was with child. He drank in her beauty as the fabric inched its way up her long, shapely legs, the dark russet fleece at the apex of her thighs, the scent of her arousal strong, igniting his need for her ten fold. He slipped his hand along her hip to her waist as she drew the garment the rest of the way over her body until it joined his shirt at the foot of their bed. "Oh, my God."

He wanted to run his tongue along the blue veins tracing their way along her full breasts. Her nipples made him mad with desire, had done from the first time he'd seen them, tasted and teased them when she'd come to him in that blue gown. There was something about how they felt and tasted now, as they had each time she'd carried their child, deep rose and so sensitive, as they were now. Her fingers slid through his hair as she drew him down into the feather ticking, and he closed his eyes. _I want her, not any other, not the most beautiful eighteen-year-old damsel born out of a sea-shell, not the most seductive houri of any sultan's harem; I want her with her familiar gestures and her shining smile and her scarred knees, and I know she wants me in just that same way, and if there's any happiness more complete than this I don't know it and am not sure I even want it. So you've been away and risked your life, you damned fool, and this is your undeserved reward._

"Demelza," he murmured against her flesh. He lifted his head, meeting eyes that blazed with heat at the mere utterance of the word. "Please." She nodded frantically, shifting onto her side, reaching behind to pull him close. He slid inside her wet heat, the friction causing them both of groan, she into the pillow and he into the curve of her neck, matching him stroke for stroke. His hand caressed the swell of her belly, his index finger circling her distended navel before slipping between her legs to her bud, slick and turgid against his touch. She growled low in her throat, words of love and desire all but sung as she trembled against him.

"I l-love you," she stuttered, turning her head, seeking his mouth as her climax seized her, showering him with her dew. He groaned her name against her lips as he followed her in ecstasy.

They lay for several moments, the sound of their ragged breathing cutting through the silence of the night. Ross nuzzled the back of her neck, his hand resting on her belly as the muscles of her womb quivered beneath his palm. As she settled, he felt the babe press an elbow or a knee against his hand. This moment, when Demelza shifted from lover to mother had always filled him with awe. He drew his wife close, his body connected with hers as sleep lured him with the promise of contentment and peace.

She shifted, just before he'd succumbed to the exhaustion that he'd kept at bay since his arrival home, breaking the tenuous connection they'd held. "I must," she sighed when Ross groaned in protest and reached for her night rail. "Just in case Jeremy should come in."

Ross opened one eye, grinning as his wife settled against the pillows once more. "If he does, the mongrel will have to go."

He wrapped her in his embrace, his hand resting on the mound of their child atop the bedclothes, pressing nuzzling kisses along her neck and jaw. "No doubt you were plagued by French beauties."

Ross looked at her in surprise. She smiled, earthy temptress that she was, this woman who could stop his heart with a glance. "No doubt I was," he drawled, nibbling her skin, tasting the salt from their lovemaking.

"And no doubt you availed yourself," she challenged, lifting her chin to bring her lips just out of his reach.

"No doubt I did," he said, chuckling, his mind a whirl over this new, teasing banter she'd adopted. For her to jest about such a thing, after the pain he'd caused her, not so long ago. So much change, so much healing over the past few months. He arched a brow, leaning closer. "For I have no beauty at home to compare." He laughed once again, kissing her. "Have I?" His mouth claimed hers as her arms drew him down once more. _If there's any happiness more complete than this, I don't know it and am not sure I even want it._

__

**Author's Note:**

> The text in italics comes from the master himself, Winston Graham from The Black Moon. Such a boring book. *cough*


End file.
